Re-Entry
by Wendish
Summary: B&B reconnect after Brennan returns from a book tour. As told through the fingers of an out-of-shape author.


___Created March 2014 - ____I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts and Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings._

_A/N: 03/08/2014 - Happy International Women's Day!_

_There are way too many women to acknowledge along my 42 year journey (which is awesome), so I'll just stick to the ones that you may know!_

_First, props to Emily Deschanel. I'm one of those rare birds who came to and stayed with Bones b/c of her & not DB. Curious about the "other actress" who was originally DB's choice for Brennan, I watched Elisabeth Rohm on Angel over the past few weeks. Quite frankly, I found "Kate" to be very S1/S2 Brennany, which is great, but a tad two-dimensional. With all confidences, I'm certain that if Brennan didn't have to mature/emote/evolve, ER would have been perfect for the role, and Bones would have been a forgettable four-season effort. Cheers to ED for rocking great quirky!_

_Much love and appreciation go out to my Virtual Homies (yes, I just Daisy Wicked) DG Schneider, Covalent Bond, Luverofthings and Dharmamonkey for their concern and support while Mom did another stint in the hospital. Mom has been sprung and is bickering famously with Pop again. And I hope to bring even more good news later this week: Ya'll My Bitches, For Real (which BTW, is the tagline for International Women's Day)._

_I must also add remote hugs for Craftyhawk (for the love of Dave. No, that that one), Jazzyproz, Casket4mytears, GRC_73, ImaTVJunkie and FaithinBones for keeping me company with your stories while I spent way too much time at the hospital. The Bones Fandom has so many gifted writers. A common love with so many diverse and delightful perspectives (this includes the fellas). Keep doing your thing, and thanks!_

_I confess, being on Mom Alert over the past two weeks has left me way out of shape. Consider this oneshot a "word sneeze" so that I can get back to finishing up PSC and Collide. Lots of word salad. Also to Jazzyproz. As the past two weeks are a blur. Pretty sure your latest chap of Letters from Maluku influenced the setting of this oneshot. Didn't realize it tho until I read it yesterday!_

_Holy crap. First chapter of Conspiracy Theory is due 3/15...yikes!_

* * *

_I **hate** re-entry, _Booth groused as he began to tap his left ring finger with his right forefinger.

_Four weeks is too long._

Simmering, he watched his wife putter around the room in preparation for bed, er- for sex.

Late the night prior, Brennan had returned home from a three and a half week West Coast tour promoting her latest novel. But to Booth, all of the preparations that distracted her the days leading up to the trip were included in the time that they were apart.

"C'mon Bones! Come to bed!" he whined. "I miss you."

"I missed you too, Boo-"

Brennan stopped sorting through her last unpacked suitcase (she had returned late last night and sped off early this morning to the Jeffersonian) and turned to her husband. She could not resist smiling at the sight of him. Propped up against his pillows, sat a shirtless, perhaps naked, Seeley Booth sporting his best puppy-dog-plea face. She watched as he mindlessly wagged his left foot under the sheet, impatient for her attention.

_My puppy. He's impatient for me to come and play_. Brennan mused, confident that she was executing the metaphor correctly, though she dared not to verbalize it, as she was still smarting from her last effort.

_**That** _particular time before – referring to Booth as a puppy - had led to a very unfortunate and hilarious interruption to their lovemaking.

_Hilarious to Booth, _at least. Brennan recalled the uncharacteristic fit of giggles that erupted from her partner causing him to fall off the bed.

Always stimulated by how Poetically Erotic Booth could arouse her with words alone, she had decided to attempt a little "dirty talk" of her own. Obviously, "_does my big dog want to bury his bone in his Mama's backyard? ….Um, not **your** mother, of course, but rather **me **as the protagonist 'Mama'. And you as the dog with **your** bone, which in the singular refers not to me by my nickname, but rather your penis_" had not been as sexy as she had wished.

Booth's hysterical laughter had unquestionably deflated her mood that evening. But, it was also the evening that Brennan learned to appreciate Catholic guilt and the concept of penance.

_Oral penance._

Recalling the memory of that evening in juxtaposition to the "puppy" before her, she chuckled. Tomorrow, she would consult with Angela tomorrow to evaluate if "Puppy wants to play" is an effective phrase to apply in a flirtatious scenario.

In the meantime, Brennan continued to unpack. She, too was anxious to engage in coitus, but needed to restore order to their shared space. "Please give me seventeen minutes to unpack and organize things, Booth."

_Seventeen_. Booth rolled his eyes, completely aware that his gorgeous egghead had calculated a countdown clock to when The Fucking would commence.

Knowing that this simple request would not suffice, she added. "I'm looking forward to pleasuring you. I will be as swift as possible."

Booth crinkled his nose. "Aw! Ugh! '**_Pleasuring_** _**you**_'? Ugh! It sounds so…French!"

Brennan huffed a laugh as she carried her shoes into the closet. "What _is_ the cause of your distaste for the French?" She leaned against the side jamb of the door in order to remove the shoes she was wearing.

From his vantage point, Booth was distracted by the allure of a pleasant down-blouse view of his wife's full cleavage. Groaning, he fisted the sheets on either side of him, resisting the ever-more difficult urge to get up, snatch her and pull her down to the bed.

"Don't try and distract me with conversation, woman!" he fussed. "Get over here, Bones! It's been_ four weeks_!" he implored.

Brennan stopped to peer at her petulant partner. "That's not accurate at all! You joined me at the airport in San Francisco less than 10 days ago, Booth! When we arrived in Vancouver, we fornicated like flies!" She could not hold back a side grin. "I especially enjoyed it when you pressed me up against the wind-"

"Fucked like bunnies, Bones. Fucked. Like. Bunnies. Nobody wants to fuck like a fly – "

Brennan smirked moving back toward her suitcases. "That is also not accurate, Booth. Given the amount of sex that we have, a more appropriate analogy is- "

"Arrrrgh! Just trust me okay? The saying is 'fucked like bunnies' and the only acceptable option to it is 'fucked like rabbits'. And besides, that trip didn't count! Max was _there; _the whole point of the trip was for me to pick up him and Christine…**_and_** it was away sex." Booth turned to his side, moving closer to her and her side of the bed, propping his head in hand.

Brennan pulled the last of her items from the last suitcase. "Away sex?"

From his shifting, Brennan discerned that Booth was indeed, completely nude and anxious for attention. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and exhalation to ward off the lure of his ilia and the trail to other parts distracting.

"Yeah, sex when you're traveling. Not at home. Away sex: it doesn't count." The change of his angle had also allowed him reaching distance to one of her belt loops. He tugged her gently toward him.

"It doesn't?" she wondered, allowing her body to be pulled toward the bed.

As she sat, Booth slightly curled his legs and torso around her. She placed her left hand on the opposite side of him, straddling him with her arm and torso, squirming to tease a bit a friction against his forming erection. Feeling victorious, Booth grinned as he plucked open a buttonhole of her blouse and fingered the little black silk bow on the lacy bra.

"Of_ course_ it counts!" He continued by combing his fingers through her hair, licking his lips when she curved her head into his hand.

_She's almost mine._ He plotted.

_Just a few more steps before my princess lowers the drawbridge._

"But it's different. You know what I mean, Bones, c'mon!" With each sentence, his voice became more coaxing. "Home _sex_ is **better**. **Our** home, our bed, our sheets, our pillows...our walls, our floors…" he waggled his eyebrows as he guided her mouth and body to his.

Brennan giggled before succumbing to his kiss. "So you're saying that home sex is better than away sex because it's more the environment is more familiar."

"Eh, 'familiar' seems too humdrum a word. Let's just say, in our natural habitat, we have more control to be out of control. 'Unihibited': your favorite word, right?" He slid his hand up the back of the blouse to unhook her bra. "At home, I can bend you over any surface without you first checking the room for body fluids."

Brennan shook with laughter.

_Almost there…_

"You certainly have taken me on every available surface. No hyperbole there." She sighed happily as she placed her hand on his sternum. Her hand continued to wander upon pleasant discovery of his body's warmth. Booth was always so warm.

"'Taken', Bones?" he teased. "That word implies that you are a thing to be possessed. You're not getting soft and Elizabethan in your old married lady age, are you?" He queried while he completed unbuttoning her blouse.

"Of course not." She quipped, grazing her hand against the curve of his tricep as he finished his task. "It's just that I realized that – conversationally – using terms of possession – or association… can help to facilitate clarity in short order." Her eyes evaded his as she spoke.

Booth smiled as he sat up. He slid off and tossed her blouse and bra to the chair. He outlined her bottom lip with his thumb before he slid it between his. Against all measures of willpower, Brennan moaned as he deepened the kiss. Booth smirked against her lips, triumphant that it was he who now controlled their countdown clock.

_Got her. _

_But first, a trap and a tease._

"And your epiphany occurred when?" he whispered innocently.

Brennan cooed. Booth smiled to himself; he knew she couldn't resist his soft voice. He pulled his head away from hers, watching the separation form his favorite pout on her face. He cupped her cheeks, knowing that her ability to skirt a subject diminished exponentially when he had her face to face with him.

And naked. Chest to chest.

She pursed her lips. "It, um occurred at your all-star game. Do you recall at the end of the game when the teams removed their protective headgear…"

"Helmets." He corrected.

"Yes! Well, earlier in the game, Christine had created a distraction in the stands among several of the women seated near us. As you aware, people can't help but remark on how adorable she is. She gained many admirers that afternoon…"

Booth dimpled. "Go on."

"And upon removal of your helmet, Christine spotted you straight away. She grew quite excited, in fact. If you'll recollect, she began to call for you."

"Mmmmhmmm…." He plucked at her left ear in his mouth before moving to her neck.

"…and it occurred to me that I should explain to the women who in awe of our daughter, that the origin of Christine's beauty comes not only from my genetic composition, but yours as well. _Mmmm, right there! Oh, yes!_….And given that I was unaware of the intellectual capacity of these people, I found it that the simplest way to illustrate her genetic fortune was to tell them that you belonged to us."

She paused to kiss him before she continued. "Well, to me, specifically but the association to both Christine and me was well-understood."

Booth grinned. "Aw Bones, that's so cute!" he exclaimed. Before she could protest to his use of the word 'cute', he pulled her into another heated kiss.

Bodies molded, contented sighs and tongues exchanged as the pair reacquainted. Their mouths resisted separation as Booth scooted back on the bed and pulled Brennan to lay under him.

Booth rested one hand against Brennan's denim hip while the other propped him up to keep his weight off of her. She traced the curves of his chest muscles while he began to unbutton her jeans.

He pecked at her mouth again before he announced with a broad grin. "And yeah, no. That's not what happened at all."

Brennan froze. "What!? Yes it is!" she protested.

Booth smirked as he slowly tugged the zipper. "A bunch of women were ogling me in the stands and when they got a little too graphic, you went all Alpha girl and snapped them back to order."

"No!" Brennan stared at her smug mate incredulously. "Well, yes."

Her pout returned.

His grin grew wider.

"How do you know?" she demanded.

He raised his eyebrows at her and waited.

"Cam?"

"Yup."

Brennan sighed. "I forget that yours is a stealth relationship where you two rodent me out to each other."

"Rat."

"OK. A capybara is a larger rodent, but a rat will do." She agreed, chuckling.

"No, Bones. The phrase is…" he noted her triumphant nerdy smirk. "Hey, you did that one on purpose! Why Dr. Temperance Brennan, you have picked up a little too much of my rascally side." He laughed.

Her hand slipped further down his torso on a mission. "Booth."

"What?" he grunted as she made contact with her intended target.

"My name."

"Yeah, _I know_. I called you 'Temperance', Bones. It's a _thing_."

"No. That's fine! I meant that my name… it's Dr. Temperance Brennan _Booth, legally_. Professionally, of course I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. But, I would be amenable to being called Dr. Brennan Booth, socially. I find I like how it symbolizes our symbiosis…"

"Yeah?" he asked, blown away. "You want to take my name, huh?"

She abandoned her efforts of manual stimulation to slip both hands around his neck. "Well, I liked the first name you gave me." She smiled shyly.

"God, you're incredible." He rasped as he pulled her on top of him. She squealed and giggled before her lips reconnected with his. She rotated her hips to aid his efforts to peel back her jeans.

"So you're not cross with me? For not disclosing what actually transgressed at the hockey game?" she queried.

He rolled her on his back so that he could complete the removal of her jeans. "Nope. I'm used to your little white lies."

"What!? I do not tell little white lies!" she defended.

"Ha!" Booth slid back up her body, slipping his hands in hers and drawing her arms above her head. He reveled at her feigned outrage. Pressing his hips into hers, he teased. "Christine biting you? The case of the missing last slice of apple pie at my apartment? You don't know who Michael Jackson is? Nothing happened between you and Jared? And, oh! My favorite doozy – Sully's smaller than me? Bones, Sully and I worked out together! We all know he's a freak of nature."

Brennan gasped – partially at Booth's accusation, but mostly at the feel of his teasing cock between her legs. She squirmed to square her body in preparation for her defense, but the exhilarating sensation that resulted from her efforts left her even that much more vulnerable to his wiles.

"Those weren't white lies." She countered weakly. Booth shifted, increasing the distance between them, much to Brennan's dissatisfaction. "OK fine!" she admitted. "I, I…have shared few white lies during our relationship…" Booth rewarded her disclosure by pressing closer into her.

"A few!" he sneered. "Okay. Bones, you keep believing that."

She ignored his taunt. "I'm sure that most of my failures to clarify veracity were done because I wanted to spare your feelings." She reasoned.

"Or_ yours_." He teased.

She frowned.

"Don't know why you think I wouldn't love it that you went off on some inappropriate, leering, puck b–"

"Skanks!" she added quickly.

Booth laughed. "Fine. Puck skanks." He slid his knee between her legs before turning them to lay face to face on their sides. "Feisty wife is very hot."

"I am hot." She agreed cheerfully. "I love you Booth." She affirmed as she traced the outline of his mental eminence.

"I love you too Temperance Booth."

"Brennan-Booth."

"Shut up Bones."

* * *

Minutes ticked by as the pair pawed and rolled in the bed before Brennan miraculously extricated herself from their tangle.

"Wha-?! Where ya going Bones?" a very hot and bothered Booth called from his dodging bride.

"I told you Booth. I need finish unpacking before we can proceed with a full engagement in coitus."

"Arrrrrrrrrgggggh! You're killing me Bones! Get back here!"

Brennan giggled at her husband's insatiable wantonness. He growled as he watched her naked curves stride around the room.

_Not even the decency to cover up that weapon of a body. _

_Demon woman_.

"I'll get started without you, you know!" he threatened.

"Suit yourself." She smirked. "You know that I enjoy watching you."

"Yeah, with a clipboard and a stopwatch and a thousand unsexy questions." He muttered sitting up.

"What's that?" she said, disappearing into the closet.

"Nevermind. Hey! Don't even think about tacking on additional minutes to your seventeen minute commitment Mrs. Boo-, Brennan-Booth."

"Don't be silly, Booth." She frowned. "I always factor in additional time, knowing that more times than not, you're successful at distracting me." Brennan grinned, exiting the closet. She had put on a long cashmere periwinkle robe but hadn't tied it yet. Both arms were raised over her head as she placed her hair in a messy bun.

Booth's heart rate spiked at the sight of her elevated breasts and the sway of her womanly hips under the robe. _Goddess on Earth_. He mused.

"Are you okay?" she inquired.

He wrinkled his forehead. "Yeah, of course…why?"

Brennan shifted, heading towards the bathroom. "I think you have that look on your face that Parker mentioned to me. Like you're nauseous and happy simultaneously."

Although he was pretty sure he was sporting a goofy lovesick face, he couldn't help himself. "Yeah, it's called blue balls, Bones! Caused by –"

"Oh! You're experiencing epididymal hypertension? May I see? I'm familiar with the phrase 'blue balls', but I've never actually had the opportunity to witness it in person. May I see? Are you in pain?" she darted toward the sheet.

"Back!" he swatted. "Get away, woman! Go! I don't have blue balls, Bones! Go do your unpacking and other girlie stuff. Shoo!" he continued to block her advances toward his testicles.

"Fine." She huffed in retreat. "You know it's not the first time I've encountered women making less than appropriate remarks about my mate at a sporting event." she observed.

"I know. It happened with you and Sully. You told me remember?"

"No. Not about him. Sully barely compares to you Booth. It happens to me about you. Constantly."

"Oh yeah?" he asked proudly.

"Yes." she grew distracted by a thought in her head. Staring at Booth, she wondered "do you think Sweets has a point about me finally being ready to marry you because I was tired of all the advances other women were making at you? Do you think by exchanging rings, I was - on some level - marking my territory? Do you think we both were in a way marking our territory?"

Booth panicked. This _definitely_ was one of the reasons why he wanted to put a ring on Brennan's finger. Looking at his wife's searing, questioning gaze, he processed: 'does she want the truth?' With her slight shift of weight from one foot to the other, he knew.

In unison, they both responded "Nah."

_Phew._

Brennan offered a cursory smile and started toward the bathroom. Booth chuckled. By his estimation, he had about six or seven minutes to kill. He searched for something non-phallic to keep him busy. That meant no phone, no remote, and no Seeley Jr. On her side of the bed, he reached and grabbed for her iPad.

_Hmph! Security code lock. Like I can't crack this code._

Swiftly, he punched in 0-4-4-7, the room number of the classroom at American University where they first met.

_Voila!_

_Suck it, Apple. _

As he oriented himself to genius logic for app organization, he wondered. "Hey. How do you know what 'blue balls' means? Angela?"

"No. My college roommate. She told me that the boys in our dorm called me 'Blue Balls Brennan'. Evidently, my exercise attire served as a masturbatory aid for several of them." She stated matter of factly.

"I'll bet." Booth said distractedly. "Now there's someone you don't hear about, ever. Bones' roommate, **_that_** poor girl." He mumbled.

"What?" She popped her wet face out of the bathroom.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Hey, it says here they've announced the probable schedule for cherry blossoms blooming this year. We should take Christine over to the monuments to see this year." He suggested.

"That's a lovely idea." She called from the bathroom. "According to Hodgins, it will be a few years before our tree begins to fully bloom. Plus it will be nice to introduce Christine to _our path_."

Booth chuckled. "Well, not the entire path. There are certain seedier parts to our path that I'd like to keep from her."

"Do you mean where we orally and manually stimulate each other out of the sight line of others?" she inquired.

He imagined the innocent, unassuming look on her face as she posed the question. "Yup. Those ones."

"Then it's probably a good thing that she accompanies us during the festival. Our favorite spots to stop will be overrun all those silly tourists." She suggested as she re-entered the room. "That little alcove at the Jefferson Memorial…?" she teased, pulling a tee shirt and shorts from her dresser.

"For eight years we were just partners," he mulled. "Little did I know that in those eight years, all of our strolls and runs along that path, you were just doing reconnaissance for where you could finally have your way with me."

She snorted. "Well, I'm a planner." She placed the pajamas on the side table and removed her robe. Peeling the sheets back, she paused to make a bountiful leer at her naked spouse.

"What?" he inquired.

She laughed shyly. "I'm trying to think of a tribe that I've come across where you would not be worshiped and revered. I find that I can think of none." She fingered her pillow. I've really missed you." She sighed.

"I know!" he exclaimed, placing her iPad back on her nightstand.

"It's been _four_ weeks…" she taunted with a mischievous grin.

"Get in here." He ordered extending his hand out to her. Sliding into the bed, she met him in the middle of the mattress where they shared a brief kiss. "Hi." He greeted.

She giggled. "Hello." As she leaned in to kiss him again, he pulled away.

"Why are they _silly_, Bones?"

"Who?" she asked impatiently, drawing him back to her with a guiding hand under his chin.

"The tourists." He pecked at her lips.

"Oh!" she recalled. "Coordinating vacation itineraries around the blooming of a tree. It's about as absurd as me organizing my schedule to watch you get out of the shower." She stroked his thigh.

"Heh, I don't know what that means." He offered, trailing a line of kisses from the back of her ear to her mouth.

She fantasized. "When you step out of the shower, you look magnificent. You're wet from head to toe. And the heat of the water against your flesh colors it beautifully. And you smell incredible." Her hands traveled absentmindedly across his chest and neck. It's quite arousing."

"So you're wet too, then huh?" he growled at her, pulling her on top of him.

"Every time." She confirmed.

"Not understanding why that's absurd though, Bones." He muffled, his words obstructed by her breasts.

"Because like you, DC is beautiful all of the time, Booth. It is silly when folks miss the window of the blossoming season, and then they rule their vacation ruined. If I don't get see you coming out of the shower, that doesn't mean I'm not appreciative of how you look in your suit or your sweats, or otherwise naked…"

"Well, that's a relief." He quipped. "Gotta tell ya, Bones. That is the hottest – weirdest - but hottest compliment you've ever paid me. Never been compared to a city before." He turned her on her back and began to pepper kisses all over her body.

"It's Sweets' fault. When I was traveling, he kept emailing me these ridiculous Zimbio quizzes to take and I couldn't stop!" She combed her hands through his hair. "Booth, if I was a city,"

"Seattle." He murmured against her belly.

"Seattle?" she inquired quizzically, surprised by the promptness of his response.

He chuckled as he began to climb back up her body. "You're breathtaking, Bones. Your mountains are majestic…" he winked at her giggle. "And volcanic. You could blow at any time." He kissed her dubious lips. "You're always full of coffee, fire, passion, conversation, music and super-smart stuff." His head mimicked the same angle that hers took before he kissed her shoulder. "Your land is lush and fertile and there's so much for me to explore still." He stroked her temple with his thumb. And it's the gateway to the Pacific, you know. From there, I can go anywhere in the world. You've given me the world Mrs. Brennan-Booth." He entreated.

Brennan gazed at her husband. She was the best-selling author, but it was Seeley Booth who absolutely was the artist when it came to words. She reached up to stroke his handsome face. "It rains all the time."

"Fine by me." He husked out as he reached between her legs, teasing her with his long twitchy fingers. "Wet and welcoming."

"Ohhhhh." Brennan moaned as she submitted freely to her loving husband.

The room remained quiet except for the soft moans and gasps of the captivated woman, writhing below the powerful, capable hands of her trained sniper. On occasion, Booth would whisper tributes of love and reverence against Brennan's body, but otherwise, their home was silent.

This was their ritual. While sex between them was mostly loud,_ uninhibited_, and explosive, the gesture of one pleasuring the other was their rare time for silence. Without ever discussing it, both had come to appreciate the pause in their constant battle for verbal dominance.

The true intimacy of the ritual – two constantly competing equals rebalancing their scales – one submitting her/his body and unconditional trust to the exercise of being honored and worshiped by the other deserved the solemnity and focus of silence. Both found their ritual cathartic, reaffirming and erotic.

And, though she would never say this to the man she loves and trusts more than even herself at times, Brennan found their ritual, _religious_.

She considers telling him this as her body writhes in ecstasy. He abandons the use of his hands as his mouth hungers for the taste of her. She melds to him as his tongue tastes her flesh and consumes her with wanton delight. The scientist who understands human osteology better than anyone else on the planet withers in submission to the mastery of the man who has studied her own body with more than earnest interest for almost a decade.

Her body convulses in uncontrollable pulses as he crawls up and crowds her mouth with his own. He swallows her gasps before she howls with desire for the fill of him.

"Booth." She finally utters, her body weary and desperate for more of him.

"I'm here, Baby" he grunts as he enters her. Ready and willing to turn up the Dial of Them.

* * *

Booth reads the ceiling as if it will reveal the location of his lost oxygen while his catlike mate curls her sated curves to his.

_Why does** she** love me? _ He wonders, perfectly happy to never have the answer.

"I think I may stop writing." She mumbles against his neck.

"Huh? What? Why?" he hopes that the energy that his wearied body has spared him have given him the strength to wonder these thoughts out loud.

"Because. I don't enjoy being away from you for such extended periods of time." She confessed.

"Huh. You going to stop going on digs?"

"Of course not. I figured that those would be more interesting to you, so you and Christine would join me."

He patted the delicate hand that covered his heart. "You're definitely right there, Bones. About the digs. They are definitely more interesting than your book tours. You don't have to stop writing for me. Why can't you just do web readings? There's tons of web conferencing options out there now. You can do a reading from the comforts of your anthropologist's cave while I diddle you the whole time!"

Brennan laughed at her husband's crassness. She loved it when he was unfiltered. "I've thought about it. But Angela and my publicist assure me that web readings would only attract more men _and_ women who would be servicing themselves freely in the comforts of their own homes while I read to them. They strongly suggest that my in person appearances are less…pervy."

Booth laughed and kissed the sweaty forehead of his wife. "In person it is, then." They lay silent for a while. "Don't stop writing Bones. I love reading what hides in that brilliant mind of yours."

"Then you'll have to promise to come with me for longer stays on book tours, then." She threatened.

"Hmm. We'll see." He teased.

"I love re-entry."

* * *

A/N #2: Unexpectedly, the story had a little homage to both of my Washingtons - DC and the PNW (my first love!). Love NJ, but with spring coming, I'm definitely missing my early Sunday AM path around the monuments (start at MLK, head to FDR, Jefferson, Lincoln, Korea, WWII, then to coffee!). Also missing my BFF who I absolutely have not had time for. As you know, my writing contains a grip of banter and he is my banter buddy. I may need to sacrifice my self-esteem and hygiene ;) and make a trip to his hometown of Philly (Love him, hate Philly).


End file.
